


touching souls

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blind Character, Blind Enjolras, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:31:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There had never been a time in Enjolras’ life when would have thought that he’d one day be sad about not getting to kiss a certain person, but it seemed that moment had come after all."</p>
            </blockquote>





	touching souls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flamethatneverdies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamethatneverdies/gifts).



> Right, so the prompt was to write a fic based on [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Wav5KjBHbI) short film. (You don't have to watch it to understand the fic, but you still should, because it's adorable.)  
> I'm so sorry if this isn't what you wanted.

Enjolras was sitting on the front steps of his parents’ house, enjoying the early morning sun, trying not to listen to his father’s angry voice shouting at his mother because of one thing or another. He listened to the birds instead, the sound of his neighbor’s Mercedes as he drove off to work, the voice of Combeferre’s mother, wishing him a good day at school, the sound of Combeferre’s footsteps approaching across the undoubtedly neatly-cut lawn, Combeferre saying “Good morning” and stepping onto the gravelly path in front of the house.

He always did that, made sure to say something before he stepped up to him, as if Enjolras couldn’t tell from miles away that it was him, because although he couldn’t actually see Combeferre, he knew the sound of his footsteps by heart.

“Are they arguing?” Combeferre asked quietly as he gently gripped Enjolras’ upper arm to pull him to his feet.

Enjolras huffed. “Obviously. Sometimes I think they forget that I’m blind and not deaf.”

“You can always come over if it gets too… annoying,” Combeferre said. “But you know that.”

“I do,” Enjolras confirmed. “Now tell me about the paper.”

It was a ritual of theirs and it had been for a while now. Combeferre would read the paper in the morning, or at least as much as he managed before he picked up Enjolras to walk to school with him, then he’d tell Enjolras about the articles, give short summaries and then Enjolras would pick the ones he wanted Combeferre to read to him later on.

Today, however, Combeferre didn’t even get as far as the articles on the second page, because Courfeyrac came rushing towards them, looking like an overexcited puppy – at least if he could believe Combeferre on that.  

“Help,” Courfeyrac wheezed when he finally reached them and hooked his arm through Enjolras’ as he always did.

Enjolras counted himself lucky to have friends like the two of them. One of them was always by his side, and even though Enjolras was sure he’d do just fine on his own most of the time, he really did like having them there.

At first it had only been Combeferre, whose family had lived next door ever since he could remember, and Combeferre had sometimes come to talk to him over a slowly rotting fence that had been torn down years and years ago and had never been replaced.

 “I can’t see you,” was the first thing Enjolras had said to him all these years ago. “I can’t see anything.”

“I don’t mind,” Combeferre had answered. “I can tell you what everything looks like.”

And he’d done exactly that and so much more.

Combeferre had introduced him to Courfeyrac a while later, and on Enjolras’ first day at public school –  something he’d had to fight with his parents about for what seemed like an eternity, simply because they wouldn’t even listen when he asked them to let him – he’d already had two friends.

All this time it had always been the three of them, as different as they were, quiet and calm Combeferre, Courfeyrac, who seemed to be incapable of being unhappy, and him. He did have quite a temper, and he had no idea why they put up with him sometimes.

“Please tell me this isn’t about some girl again,” Combeferre was now saying to Courfeyrac, whose fingers immediately dug into Enjolras’ arm.

“It’s not about some girl,” Courfeyrac said immediately, “but, and now, my friends, listen closely, because I have important news, there’s a new guy at school.”

Combeferre chuckled. “I know it’s an established fact that you know everything, but how on earth do you know this already?”

“You know that house that was on sale in our street? His family moved in last weekend and, let me tell you, he’s _so_ hot. In an unconventional way, but still. Really hot.”

Enjolras grinned. As much as he didn’t care when Courfeyrac told him that some girl or another had looked at him for a prolonged amount of time, he did like how enthusiastic he was about this kind of thing. “So, what’s the plan?”

“I’m gonna make him scream my name,” Courfeyrac said nonchalantly.

And even though Enjolras couldn’t actually see it, he knew that Combeferre had just rolled his eyes _so_ hard.

* * *

The new guy, as it turned out, was called Grantaire, and the first thing Enjolras noticed about him was his laugh.

Enjolras didn’t really have a lot to go on when he met new people, he heard their voices, analyzed the way they spoke, thought about the way they treated him. Of course people acted differently around him, but not always in a good way. Some tended to be condescending, some tried to baby him as if he was totally helpless on his own, and some, like Grantaire, tried to treat him like everyone else. Those were his favorite people.

Courfeyrac promptly invited Grantaire to have dinner with them in their usual spot, namely the stairs that led down to the basement, a place they absolutely shouldn’t be having lunch at, but Enjolras had wisely enough played his blind kid card, as Courfeyrac liked to call it, and so most of the teachers left them be.

“So, are you like the outcasts or something?” Grantaire asked. Enjolras could clearly hear the amusement in his voice.

“Basically,” Combeferre said, “It’s because we hang around with Courfeyrac. Everyone hates him.”

“You have hurt me deeply.” Courfeyrac made a sniffling noise. “But it’s not like I’m not used to it.”

Grantaire laughed again, a low, musical sound that Enjolras wanted to commit to memory forever.

“Enjolras, do you need help with that?”

Enjolras quickly shook his head. He’d completely abandoned his half-unpacked lunch to listen to his friends’ conversation. “I do know how to unwrap my sandwich, thanks Courf,” he grumbled.

Courfeyrac nudged him with his elbow, then he started talking to Grantaire again. “So, Grantaire, how did you end up here?”

“My mom got a job at the hospital, so we had to move. But it’s nice enough here, I guess.”

“What about your dad?”

Grantaire didn’t answer for a couple of long seconds. “He’s not really in the picture anymore.”

“Sorry I asked,” Courfeyrac mumbled.

“It’s fine.”

Enjolras could tell that it really wasn’t fine and he somehow wanted to hug Grantaire, but he just didn’t hug people, he didn’t even hug his parents. Courfeyrac sometimes hugged him, but it usually happened too fast for him to reciprocate.

He listened to Courfeyrac prattle on about some of their teachers, Grantaire sniggering every now and then, and for once Enjolras didn’t mind that Combeferre didn’t get to read him a single article from the paper.  He just wanted to hear Grantaire laugh again.

* * *

“How are things going with Grantaire?” Enjolras asked Courfeyrac after about a week. Grantaire was now pretty much part of their little group, although he usually didn’t come with them in the morning, since he apparently liked to sleep as long as he possibly could.

“Please,” Courfeyrac said, “I don’t have the slightest chance with Grantaire.”

“Not into guys?” Enjolras asked, feeling a little disappointed. He wasn’t even sure why, it wasn’t like it would take Courfeyrac a long time to find someone new to moon over.

“Oh, he’s very much into guys, believe me,” Courfeyrac mumbled.

“But?”

“Well, he’s not exactly into me. It’s pretty obvious.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said. “That’s… sad?”

“It really is,” Courfeyrac said dramatically. “We could have had it all.”

“Courfeyrac doesn’t seem to be all that sad about it,” Combeferre piped up. “I think he’ll survive.”

Courfeyrac only grumbled something about Combeferre being a vile traitor, then he stomped off.

* * *

“You guys can go ahead, I just want to have a word with Lamarque,” Combeferre said. “Where’s Courf?”

“He has to talk to Valjean about a project,” Enjolras told him. “I suppose he’s already left.”

“Well, if you don’t mind waiting I can still walk you home later, it shouldn’t take too long.”

“It’s not like I can’t go on my own.”

“I know, Enjolras.”

“Good, I’ll go alone, then.”

“What about me? I’m still here.” That was Grantaire’s voice.

“It’s not really on your way, is it?” Enjolras asked. He did live in the same neighborhood, but it would still be a detour for him if he walked him all the way home.

“I don’t mind. Come on.” Grantaire tugged at Enjolras’ sleeve. He always did that and Enjolras wasn’t quite sure why, because he wouldn’t mind if Grantaire just took him by the arm like Combeferre and Courfeyrac did, but maybe Grantaire didn’t want to. Maybe it was Grantaire’s way of letting him know that it was him.

Enjolras wanted to ask why, but he was afraid that it would just result in another argument. They’d had their fair share of quarrels and more than once Grantaire had just left in the middle of a conversation and Enjolras had kept ranting until Combeferre had told him that Grantaire actually wasn’t there anymore. He knew he was a little too hard on him sometimes, a little too harsh with his words, but Grantaire was inherently cynical and more often than not Enjolras just couldn’t stand it.

It didn’t matter that he didn’t say anything, though, because they managed to start arguing anyway. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were going to a protest the following weekend, and even though Enjolras would have loved to come with them, he knew his parents would never let him and his friends probably wouldn’t be too happy about having to babysit him all day either.

Grantaire, however, seemed to think that protests were good for nothing and told Enjolras as much. “I mean, honestly, they’re not going to change a thing.”

“It’s not like it’s just the two of them. If there are enough people protesting-”

“There are never enough people. People are lazy. People don’t care.”

“Then we have to make sure they do, we have to educate them.”

“We,” Grantaire mused, “as in people like you and I?”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s bullshit, they wouldn’t listen to us, don’t you see?”

Enjolras almost burst out laughing. “Actually I really don’t.”

Grantaire stopped in his tracks and Enjolras with him. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I didn’t want to-”

“Don’t worry, I know you didn’t mean it like that,” Enjolras said and patted him on the arm.

“Okay, good.” Enjolras could hear Grantaire breathe in sharply before he tugged him onwards. “We’re almost there,” Grantaire mumbled.

“I know.” He knew the way from school to his house just as well as he knew how to navigate his room and their house. It was all mapped out in his head. “Thank you for walking me home.”

“Anytime,” Grantaire mumbled and took Enjolras’ keys from him as soon as he’d fished them out of his bag. “Here, let me.”

“Thanks again.” Enjolras smiled. “See you around.” Actually that was Courfeyrac’s favorite bad pun, but Enjolras figured he could borrow it for the occasion.

Grantaire snorted. “Right.”

Enjolras was still smiling when he closed the door behind himself.

* * *

“Can I ask you something?” Enjolras asked Courfeyrac a few weeks later. He’d waited for an opportunity to be alone with him for a while. This was a thing he trusted Courfeyrac with.

“Sure,” Courfeyrac said immediately.

“What do I…” No, no, that wasn’t what he wanted to ask. He knew what he looked like, he’d asked about that before. “Am I… attractive?”

“Attractive,” Courfeyrac repeated slowly. “Are you asking if I think you’re hot or if Grantaire might think that you’re hot?”

Enjolras was fairly certain that he was blushing furiously. “Just… in general. This has nothing to do with Grantaire.”

It really had nothing to do with Grantaire. It had nothing to do with the movie night at Courfeyrac’s house that he’d gone to – even though he couldn’t technically see the movies, he still liked to sing along to the songs in The Lion King with his friends – the one where Grantaire had fallen asleep with head leaning against Enjolras’ shoulder, his hair tickling his chin, and it had nothing to do with the strange flutter in his stomach every time Grantaire spoke or tugged at his sleeve or told him how wrong he was about something.

People usually didn’t tell him that he was wrong – not directly, at least. That was part of the blind kid bonus, although he really didn’t appreciate that part of it. He liked it when Grantaire started arguing with him, because even Courfeyrac and Combeferre were reluctant to contradict him sometimes. They still did, of course, but there was absolutely no special treatment from Grantaire. He didn’t mince his words.

“Well, yeah, you are,” Courfeyrac’s answer eventually came. “And although this has nothing to do with Grantaire, as you said, I’m pretty sure he would agree with me.”

Enjolras made a noncommittal noise.

“Did that answer your question or do you want me to comment on your angelic face and-”

“No, you can stop,” Enjolras said.

“And your beautiful hair,” Courfeyrac continued anyway, “and your piercing blue eyes and-”

“No, seriously, you can stop now.”

“But Enjolras,” Courfeyrac whispered, “ _You are so beautiful.._. _To me_.”

“Stop singing.”

“ _Can’t you see_ …”

“Courfeyrac, I swear to God-”

“Okay, okay, I’m stopping. You know, there’s a pun there somewhere.”

“Why am I friends with you?”

Courfeyrac giggled. “Because of my charming personality.”

“No, that’s definitely not it,” Enjolras mumbled and walked off towards their classroom. Courfeyrac was back at his side within seconds.

* * *

“Enjolras you have to come,” Courfeyrac was saying with his annoying-toddler-voice. “Please, please, please.”

“I’m not the one you need to convince.”

There was a meteor shower that night and Courfeyrac, Combeferre and Grantaire had made plans to watch it together. Of course Enjolras had asked his mother if he could go with them, but she’d immediately told him to not even think about it. He wouldn’t miss much anyway, she’d said. Enjolras had walked off to his room without another word.

“I’ll talk to your mom,” Courfeyrac said immediately, “even better, Combeferre will talk to your mom. Parents can’t resist when Combeferre is being all charming and reasonable, Enjolras, you know that, he’s like the parent whisperer, just let him work his magic, I promise, you’ll be coming with us tonight.”

As it turned out, Courfeyrac was right. It took Combeferre about five minutes to talk Enjolras’ mum into letting him go with them and now he was sitting on a blanket together with his friends on the small field around the corner from Courfeyrac’s house, eating the cupcakes Combeferre’s mom had made for them.

“Have you seen one yet?” Enjolras asked for probably the tenth time.

“No,” the others said in unison.

“If we do, you’ll be the first one to know,” Grantaire said and poked him in the ribs. “What have you got there?”

“Where?” Enjolras asked, trying to bat Grantaire’s hand away.

“Aw, you look like a human cupcake,” Courfeyrac cooed.

Enjolras furiously wiped at his mouth.

“Let me,” Grantaire said and wiped something off Enjolras’ cheek. “It’s in your hair as well, how the hell did you manage that?”

“It’s a gift,” Enjolras muttered.

“Don’t pout,” Courfeyrac said, “ _cupcake_.”

“If that nickname sticks I’m going to murder you,” Enjolras grumbled.

“No, you won’t,” Courfeyrac said sweetly. “Come on, lie back with us.”

Enjolras did and closed his eyes, hoping he wouldn’t fall asleep nestled up against Courfeyrac, although he was sure he wouldn’t mind. It was just that it was starting to get a little chilly and he’d left his jacket at Courfeyrac’s, thinking he probably wouldn’t need it. Now he didn’t want to be a bother and ask anyone to get it for him.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m not sleeping,” Enjolras said immediately.

“I wasn’t talking to you, but thanks for the information.” Courfeyrac ruffled his hair. “Grantaire?”

“Just drawing,” Grantaire mumbled.

“What are you drawing?” Combeferre asked. “Oh wow, that’s really good.”

Courfeyrac shot upright, pushing Enjolras up with him. “Let me see.” There was some rustling paper. “Holy shit.”

“What did you draw?” Enjolras asked impatiently. Sometimes he hated that he had to rely on others so much.

Grantaire cleared his throat. “It’s, um… you.”

“Oh?”

“He did a great job, don’t worry, Enjolras.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Enjolras said and stuck out his tongue at Courfeyrac.

“Just go back to sleep.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“Look, we even have another blanket,” Combeferre said, “just in case you _do_ want to sleep.”

“We do?” Enjolras asked, trying not to sound too eager. “Can I have it?”

“Yeah, are you cold?”

Enjolras shrugged. “Just a little.”

“Maybe say something next time.”

“It’s not like I was freezing to death or anything.”

“Here, you can wear this if you want,” Grantaire said and dropped something in his lap. “I probably won’t need it.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras said and slipped on the hoodie Grantaire had given to him. It was soft and smelled like Grantaire, and Enjolras had already started making plans on how he could possibly steal it as he laid back down, now sandwiched between Courfeyrac and Grantaire, feeling a lot warmer than before. He fell asleep almost instantly.

When he woke up again, he could hear Grantaire, Combeferre and Courfeyrac giggling quietly, and he was curled up to someone’s side and there was a blanket draped over him and fingers running through his hair, probably Courfeyrac’s, going by how often he braided Enjolras’ hair. As soon as his eyes fluttered open they disappeared, though, so it probably hadn’t been Courfeyrac’s after all.

“Look who’s awake again,” Grantaire mused.

Enjolras smiled. “How many have you seen?”

“A lot,” Combeferre told him. “We tried to count them, but we lost track.”

“Probably like a gazillion,” Courfeyrac added.

Enjolras hummed and turned to lie on his back. Courfeyrac put an arm around him, then it was joined by another one, Combeferre’s, long enough to reach across Courfeyrac, and finally Grantaire’s, sneaking around his waist.

“We should just sleep here, y’know,” Courfeyrac mumbled. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Grantaire agreed.

Combeferre chuckled. “I’m pretty sure Enjolras’ mom is going to kill us all if we don’t bring him back by midnight.”

“That’s in 15 minutes,” Grantaire said slowly.

“What?”

“Fifteen. Minutes.”

“Shit.”

“We can make it if we run.”

“Yeah, I’m not running,” Enjolras chipped in.

Grantaire laughed. “I’ll carry you.”

“What?” Enjolras asked, incredulous.

“Come on, you can’t be that heavy,” Grantaire said and lifted him off his feet.

They made it to Enjolras’ two minutes early, or at least that was what Courfeyrac said, all of them panting and giggling.

Before Enjolras turned to go inside, someone tugged at his sleeve. Grantaire. “Here,” he said and placed a piece of paper in his hand, “this is for you. Just throw it away if you don’t want it.”

“Is that what you drew earlier?” Enjolras asked.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras said quietly. “And thanks for taking me.”

* * *

Enjolras wouldn’t have dared to admit it, not even to himself, that he thought about Grantaire even more than he had before, and the fact that he was paired up with Grantaire to do an assignment didn’t actually make it any better.

“So, how do you want to do this?” Grantaire asked him on their way home.

“What are you doing?” Courfeyrac asked, his tone so suggestive that Enjolras would have hit him, hadn’t he been afraid to miss him and hit someone else instead. Grantaire, for example.

“An assignment,” Enjolras said quickly. “For Lamarque’s class. The one you’re in, too.”

“Ah, that,” Courfeyrac mumbled. “Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“Do you want to come to my place after school tomorrow?”

“Sure, that’s fine.”

“Or we can go to yours if that’s easier for you.”

Enjolras shook his head. “I’ll come to yours.”

Walking to Grantaire’s the next day wasn’t all too hard, since he lived in the same road as Courfeyrac and he’d already been there countless times, it was just when they parted ways with Courfeyrac that it got difficult.

Grantaire did tug him along, then Enjolras could hear him fiddle with his keys. “Watch your step,” Grantaire mumbled as he led Enjolras into the house.

Then he let go of Enjolras, there was some rustling and some shuffling and something hitting the floor and Enjolras remained standing exactly where he was, waiting.

“Just put your shoes by the…” Grantaire trailed off then he returned to Enjolras. “Shit, sorry, give me that,” he muttered and helped Enjolras out of his jacket. “Here, just take your shoes off, I’ll give them back later, I promise.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Enjolras said and slipped out of his shoes.

“My room is upstairs, can you… I mean I know you can walk up the stairs, but…”

“Just tell me when get to the stairs, okay?” He could have just unpacked his cane and none of this would have been a big deal, but he liked the way Grantaire now held on to his hand, so he let himself be led. He trusted Grantaire just as much as he trusted Combeferre and Courfeyrac, he was quite possibly even more careful with him than the other two and when Enjolras bumped his toe, which really wasn’t a big deal, Grantaire wouldn’t stop apologizing for about a minute.

They made it up to Grantaire’s room without any further problems, then Grantaire quickly ran back downstairs to get them both something to drink, muttering something about how he was the most horrible host on the planet, and Enjolras ended up sitting on Grantaire’s bed, the book Lamarque had got him in his lap, Grantaire next to him, reading to him from their actual history textbook.

“Can I ask,” Grantaire said after a while, “where did you learn how to read Braille?”

“I didn’t always go to public school,” Enjolras said dryly.

“Right, of course you didn’t. So you’ve always been…”

Enjolras waited for him to finish, but he didn’t, so he took a guess. “Blind? It’s not a bad word, Grantaire, you can say it, it’s not like I’m unaware of my situation. But yeah, I’ve always been like this.”

“That sucks.”

“A lot of people are worse off than I am.”

“Still sucks.”

“I’ve never known anything else,” Enjolras said slowly, “I don’t even know what I’m missing.”

Grantaire hummed thoughtfully. “So you never wish you could see?”

“Oh, I do. All the time,” Enjolras replied. He took a deep breath. “I wish I could see you.”

“Ah, I’m not much to look at, I promise,” Grantaire said lightly.

“Still.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing you can’t.”

“Why?”

“Just because.”

“Do you think I’d like you less if I could?”

“Probably,” Grantaire said instantly. “Wait.” He paused. “No. You’re not the kind of person who’d pick their friends based on their looks.”

Enjolras smiled. “Exactly.”

He didn’t know why, but he was almost sure that Grantaire was smiling back at him.

“So, I’ll just type that all up and we can hand it in next week,” Grantaire said when they’d finally slammed their books shut. “Do you want to stay for dinner? I’m ordering pizza, because my mom’s at the hospital until at least midnight and my sister is at some sleepover.”

“Sure, that would be nice.”

“Great,” Grantaire muttered, “Do you like pepperoni?”

Enjolras nodded. “Yeah, sure, anything’s fine.”

“Okay.” Grantaire slipped off the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

Enjolras leaned back against the headboard, listening as Grantaire ran down the stairs and ordered pizza for them.

“Won’t take too long,” Grantaire said upon his return and sat back down next to Enjolras.

Enjolras was just about to ask Grantaire about where he’d lived before, because there were actually a lot of things he didn’t know about him, things he really wanted to know, when something warm and fuzzy nudged his hand.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras asked slowly.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot I left the door open. You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”

“No,” Enjolras answered, “I had no idea you had a cat.”

“Well, he usually hides because he doesn’t like most people,” Grantaire said and scooped his cat away from Enjolras.

“What’s his name?”

“Lucifer,” Grantaire said, sounding completely serious. “Don’t laugh. I was eight when I got him and I thought it might upset my parents. I was wrong.”

Enjolras laughed. “Can I have him back?”

“Yeah, sure, I thought he was bothering you.”

“Not at all,” Enjolras said, smiling when Grantaire dropped Lucifer back on his lap.

“Why don’t you have a guide dog or something? You know, like a really fluffy golden retriever?”

“My mom hates dogs,” Enjolras told him. “Or any kind of pet.”

“Man, that’s so sad. You can borrow Lucifer anytime you want.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Grantaire eventually kicked Lucifer out, although he assured Enjolras that he’d gently placed him outside the door and hadn’t actually kicked him, because he was afraid that he might sit down on their pizza boxes because they were warm and smelled nice.

After they’d both finished their dinner, Enjolras was starting to think that he should probably call his parents to have one of them pick him up, but he just really didn’t want to leave.

“Courfeyrac said you have blue eyes,” he said, because he really couldn’t think of anything else in that moment.

Grantaire chuckled. “He didn’t lie.”

“I don’t know what blue looks like.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t even know what eyes look like.” He laughed. This was ridiculous. Had it been Combeferre or Courfeyrac he would have just asked, they were friends after all. Grantaire was his friend, too, but with him it was different. “Can you come closer?”

“Sure,” Grantaire said. He sounded wary and Enjolras really couldn’t blame him.

“I told you, I do want to see you. I really do.” He lifted his hand. “Do you mind if I…” He reached out and his hand landed on Grantaire’s chest. His heart was beating fast, just like Enjolras’ own. “It’s the only way I can see you.”

“Go on,” Grantaire mumbled.

“Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay, Enjolras, just do what you have to do.”

Enjolras leaned closer and swiftly moved his hand up Grantaire’s neck, really, no need to linger there, as much as he wanted to, up to his cheek, his thumb brushing over not quite smooth skin, then down the line of a crooked nose, over thin lips, which was when he finally dropped his hand.

Grantaire made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper. “Okay, I hope that was helpful.”

“Yeah, it was, thank you,” Enjolras whispered. He really didn’t trust his voice right now. There had never been a time in Enjolras’ life when would have thought that he’d one day be sad about not getting to kiss a certain person, but it seemed that moment had come after all.

* * *

The next morning Enjolras called Combeferre and Courfeyrac and asked them to come over. He needed help with this.

They were sitting in his backyard, Courfeyrac was braiding his hair and Combeferre was humming, and Enjolras really didn’t want to ruin the good mood his friends were in with his, quite frankly, downright ridiculous problems.

But Combeferre, being Combeferre, obviously hadn’t forgotten why they were there. “You said you wanted to talk about something?”

“Right, Enjolras, is something wrong?” Courfeyrac propped his chin on his shoulder, probably looking at Combeferre. “Just spit it out.”

Enjolras took a deep breath. Those two were his best friends. They wouldn’t laugh at him. They wouldn’t tell him he was being silly. “I think I’m in love with Grantaire.”

Neither Combeferre nor Courfeyrac said a word.

“Guys?”

Courfeyrac coughed. “Sorry, I… I’m glad you finally noticed.”

“What?”

“What?” Courfeyrac echoed. “’Ferre, say something.”

“Well, what Courfeyrac is trying to say is that it’s not actually surprising.”

“It’s not?”

“Not really,” Courfeyrac said lowly.

Enjolras grabbed Courfeyrac’s shirt. “Does that mean Grantaire knows?”

“Maybe,” Combeferre said.

“Probably,” Courfeyrac corrected and gave Enjolras a tight hug. “You should talk to him.”

“Right,” Enjolras mumbled. Talk to Grantaire. He could do that. “I wanted to ask him about my book anyway, I forgot it at his place last night.”

“I meant about how you feel about him, not about your book. Because I’m sure he’d like to know. And you know… do something about that.”

Enjolras bit his lip. “But why would he like me?”

“Why wouldn’t he like you?” Combeferre asked.

“’Ferre,” Enjolras said sternly, “you know why.”

“Because you’re too wonderful?” Courfeyrac cut in. “Because that’s what you are. And Grantaire knows that. That’s why he likes you. You should see the way he looks at you sometimes, honestly.”

And Enjolras really wanted to, but he didn’t have to tell Courfeyrac that. “Can you text him for me?” Enjolras asked. “Ask him if he can come over later on.”

* * *

When Enjolras heard the doorbell ring he nearly jumped off his chair and ran downstairs, but he was pretty sure that his mother would beat him to the door, so he stayed exactly where he was.

Sure enough, there was a knock on his door a minute later.

“Come in,” Enjolras called, turning around to face the door.

“Enjolras, your friend Grantaire is here,” his mother said. “Tell me if you need anything.”

Enjolras nodded. “Hello, Grantaire.”

“Um, hi,” Grantaire mumbled. Enjolras could hear the door click shut and Grantaire’s footsteps on the wooden floor. “Here’s your book, I thought you might want it back.”

“Thanks for bringing it over,” Enjolras said. “Can you put in on my desk?”

“Sure thing.” There was a thump, then silence.

Enjolras was pretty sure that he’d never felt his heart beat so fast for no reason at all. He was sure that Grantaire must hear.

“You put up my drawing.”

Enjolras smiled. “I asked Combeferre to do it.” His mother had seen it, obviously, had told him that whoever had made it was very talented and Enjolras had felt a little proud.

“You don’t even know what it looks like,” Grantaire said, sounding a little sad.

“That’s hardly the point,” Enjolras retorted.

“What’s the point, then?”

“You gave it to me.”

“Ah.”

Enjolras only smiled, wracking his brain to find something else to say. He’d asked him to come over after all, it wasn’t just to get his book back. “There’s something I wanted to ask you.” Enjolras jumped up and reached for Grantaire’s arm to lead him over to his bed, where they both sat down.

He had no idea what to say. He should have asked Courfeyrac about this part.

“What did you want to ask me?” Grantaire sounded curious but also a little too amused for Enjolras’ taste.

“Wait,” Enjolras mumbled. He needed to figure out how to make this sound less stupid than it did in his head. He reached out and found Grantaire’s arm. He could just leave his hand right there, because he really didn’t want to do anything Grantaire might not want, but if there was anyone he trusted to complain if he wasn’t okay with whatever was happening it was Grantaire. So Enjolras slid his hand down into Grantaire’s, intertwining their fingers, and squeezed lightly.

“Okay,” Grantaire whispered and squeezed Enjolras’ hand right back. “So far so good.” He _definitely_ sounded amused now.

Enjolras frowned, which apparently was hilarious, since Grantaire started laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry, but you look adorable when you don’t know what to say.”

“I’m not-”

He was interrupted by Grantaire’s lips on his, a brief kiss that made Enjolras’ body tingle all over. He was somewhat disappointed when Grantaire pulled away again almost instantly. Enjolras framed Grantaire’s face with his hands, slowly tracing the outline of his lips, which were spread into a smile.  

“Sorry again,” Grantaire whispered. “I had to.”

Enjolras inched closer until he could feel Grantaire’s nose brushing against his. “No need to apologize.”

“Do you want to come to my place and not watch a movie sometime?”

It was funny that Grantaire had managed to say what Enjolras had struggled to suggest all this time and he’d done it just like that, without much of a fuss. Apparently it really was that easy. “That sounds great,” Enjolras said.

“We can do this instead.” And with that, Grantaire kissed him again. Just like that.


End file.
